Half-Breed's Lady

by Bobbi Smith

  Tom's jaw tightened as he realized what his son had faced alone that day. His innocence had been stripped from him. He had learned of man's hatred and woman's deceit. There would be no going back for him. "She must have lied to save herself. Her daddy probably would have beat her within an inch of her life if he'd found out she was with you willingly."

  Pain showed in Hunt's expression at those words, and he realized the truth. His father had been right from the start. He should never have let himself think that things could be different. It was a mistake he would never make again. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the tortured look on his father's face.

  "Don't try to move. I'll be right back."

  Tom returned to the house and came back a short time later with a bottle of whiskey. He held the potent liquor out to his son.

  "Drink some of this. It'll help."

  Hunt stared at the bottle, then shook his head. "No. It can't help. It can't change who I am." He'd seen the drunks around town, men who drowned themselves in liquor to hide from reality. He wouldn't become one of them.

  His words were a knife in Tom's heart. "But it would ease your pain."

  "I want to remember what this feels like. I want to remember everything that happened today." His expression was that of a man who had been to hell and had lived to tell about it.

  "Well, I'm going to have one." Tom tilted the bottle to his lips and took a deep drink. "We've got to find a place to keep you safe until things quiet down."

  Hunt gritted his teeth and pushed himself to a sitting position, fighting the agony that pounded through him. "I'm not staying. I'm leaving now-tonight. It's never going to quiet down. You know it as well as I do."

  "No. You can't go. You're just a boy-"

  Hunt cut him off. "I'm not a boy anymore. You warned me that it would be hard living in a white world, but until this afternoon I didn't understand what that meant."

  "We'll keep you out of sight for a while. It'll pass."

  "No. It won't."

  Their gazes met and locked.

  "Think about what you're doing. You didn't do anything wrong. You don't need to run. We'll work it out."

  Hunt saw his father's anguish, but knew there was nothing the two of them could do. Jenny had sealed his fate when she'd lied to her father. "We can't change who I am."

  "I'll go to the sheriff and tell him what really happened with Jenny."

  "He won't care." Hunt's tone was flat.

  Tom realized how close his son had come to being killed and knew Hunt was right. He'd been praying that his son could find a way to fit in with the townfolk, but their hatred for Indians was too fierce and too deeply ingrained to overcome. They would never let him forget that he was half Comanche.

  Thoughts of Hunt's mother, his beloved Dawn Star, long dead these many years, haunted him. They had loved their son and had wanted the best for him, but it seemed he'd failed. His efforts to help Hunt live in the white world had almost gotten the boy killed.

  Tom finally accepted that Hunt was right-Dale Ross would never give up seeking to punish him. Still, Tom didn't want to let him go. He loved him and wanted to keep him safe.

  "You rest for a while. You're in no shape to be thinking about such things." He tried to delay Hunt's decision, not wanting to face it, not wanting to deal with it.

  "No, Pa, I have to think about it. If they come back, I won't have the chance to get away. I have to go, and I have to do it now, while there's time."

  All hope drained from Tom's soul. He looked haggard as he thought of the life his son would lead alone-a man trapped between two worlds. He would have no peace, no rest. "I'll go with you."

  "No. It would just make me look more guilty. They'd think we were both running, and they'd hunt us down."

  Slowly Hunt managed to stand. No matter how severe his pain, he could not afford to show any weakness.

  "Where will you go?" Tom was devastated. Both their lives were being destroyed by a woman's lies.

  "I don't know. Someplace where people see me as a man and not as a half-breed."

  Tom went to him, wanting to help, but the fierce, burning look of determination in Hunt's eyes kept him at arm's length. He saw for the first time a glimpse of the pride and fierceness of his Comanche ancestry in him. Hunt would have made an intimidating warrior. "I don't want you to go, son."

  "I can't stay not after this."

  They stood in silence, staring at each other. Now, man to man, rather than father to son. They shared the pain of parting, knowing it was the only safe way for Hunt, yet agonizing over what their futures would be alone.

  "I'll need a gun." It was a statement.

  Tom went back to the house and brought out his own gun and holster, a rifle and what his son would need to survive on his own. After Hunt had dressed, he took the sidearm and strapped it on.

  "Here," Tom said, holding out a small leather pouch. "It isn't much. I wish I had more to give you, but it's yours." He handed him all the money he had.

  "Thanks."

  "Let me know where you are."

  "I will."

  When Hunt rode silently away and disappeared into the night, Tom watched him go. His heart was breaking, and he wondered if he would ever see his son again.

  Hunt was cautious as he left home. Though his pain was great, he would not go easy on himself. There was no telling what Dale Ross might do if he caught up with him.

  During the long hours of travel, Hunt thought about his future and what he was going to do. Though his mother had died when he was young, he remembered her people well. He decided to seek out his mother's tribe and live with them. He would learn their ways and be fully accepted by them.

  He knew now that he would find no peace in the white man's world. His father's people would never accept him for the man he was.

  To the whites, he would always be despised.

  He would always be a half-breed.

  Ten years later

  Glynna Williams stared out the window of the stagecoach, studying the passing scenery with avid interest.

  "I never realized Texas would be so beautiful," she told her Aunt Mimi. "I thought Colorado was glorious when I visited there last summer, but there's something about Texas...." She frowned in concentration, as if trying to find the right words to describe what she was feeling. "It almost feels like I belong here. Does that make sense to you?"

  "Absolutely. I haven't been to this part of the state before, but I did travel to San Antonio several years ago, and I enjoyed it very much."

  "It's going to be wonderful to paint all this," Glynna went on excitedly. "I can hardly wait until we get to town, so I can start. I almost wish we could stop and take a look around. I'd love to make some preliminary sketches."

  "Remember now, we have all the time in the world. That's why I planned our trip this way. If something appeals to you and you want to stay in one place for a while, we can do it. This trip is for you, and I want you to make good use of our time here and enjoy it. After all, you're the successful artist. I'm just your widowed aunt, along to play chaperon and keep you out of trouble," Mimi said with a grin.

  "I'm glad you arrived at our house when you did last month. If you hadn't, I'm afraid I would have been disinherited by now and living on the streets." Glynna turned away from the window to smile at Mimi as she remembered the confrontation she'd had with her father, Mimi's older brother, back home in New York City.

  "You were holding your own with him quite nicely, my dear," her aunt said. She had had run-ins with Charles often during their years growing up together, and she knew how stubborn he could be.

  "It wasn't easy standing up to him that way," Glynna said.

  Her father had been outraged when Glynna had told him that she wanted to go to Texas to paint. He'd wanted her to stay home and marry his handpicked choice for a son-in-law, Edmund Moore. The fight hadn't been pretty. Not that Glynna didn't want to marry Edmund. She loved him. He was certainly handsome and well educated. He was nearly
perfect in all ways, in fact. It was just that she was excited about the success she was having with her paintings, and she wasn't ready to give it all up yet to get married. She'd explained that to Edmund when he'd proposed to her right before she and Aunt Mimi had left for Texas. He hadn't been happy about her evasiveness, but had told her he loved her and would wait for her until she was ready.

  "Charles is a very forceful man. He likes to be in control at all times." Mimi remembered far too clearly how heated the exchange between father and headstrong daughter had been when she'd walked in on them that day. "You do him proud."

  "He doesn't think so," Glynna said with some regret.

  "If you were a son instead of a daughter, he'd be thrilled with your show of spirit."

  "But I'm not a son. I'm his daughter, and you know what that means."

  "Don't I, though," she sympathized, having fought the battle for her own independence all her life.

  "I've always wanted to please Papa. I love him, I really do, but I'm just not ready to get married yet."

  "And he obviously thinks you are."

  "Of course he does! He thinks I'm an old maid! He told me so right before you got there!"

  Mimi made a disgusted sound. "That man!"

  "I'm only twenty-three!"

  "I know, dear," she said soothingly. "Is that young Edmund fellow the one he thinks would make you a good husband?"

  Glynna nodded. "I love Edmund. I've known him for several years. We get along very well, but right now my career is too important to me. Papa wants me to stay home and get married, though. He wants me to be a perfect wife and mother, but I just can'tnot now. Not yet."

  Mimi reached out to pat her hand. "Don't let him make you feel guilty for following your heart. Don't give it another thought. You won, darling. You're here! In Texas!"

  "I am here, but I have a feeling you're the one who really won the argument for me." She looked at her aunt adoringly. Mimi was quite unconventional, and Glynna had learned a lot from her over the years about how to stand up for herself.

  "When I heard your father threaten to disinherit you if you went on this trip, well, I had heard enough. I had to draw the line somewhere, and that was it. Of all the obnoxious, domineering threats to make! I just wanted to level things out a bit," she said. A small, confident smile was playing about her lips as she gazed at Glynna.

  "And you did a fine job." She was still in awe of her aunt's daring and quick wit in facing down her father. "It was a pure stroke of genius-not to mention kindness to tell Papa that if he disinherited me for going west to paint, you would give me my inheritance from you early, so I could make the trip anyway. Did you see his expression?"

  They laughed together at the memory.

  "How could I have missed it? He's such an old fuddy-duddy sometimes, so stuck in his ways. It's up to us to show him that women aren't just supposed to stay in the bedroom and the kitchen anymore."

  "Aunt Mimi!" Glynna was a bit embarrassed by her outspokenness. Ladies didn't usually talk so openly about such things.

  "I'm just speaking the truth. Instead of trying to hobble you with a husband, he should have been supporting you in your endeavors and cheering you on. He shouldn't be the biggest obstacle to your success. He should be your biggest fan!"

  "I wish he was."

  "Well, I certainly am. I'm so proud of you. Didn't one of your paintings of the Colorado mountains sell for several hundred dollars at the gallery?"

  "Five hundred, to be exact," she told Mimi, still amazed at the amount the collector had paid for her work.

  "That's fantastic! You're so talented."

  "Thank you. I'm just thrilled that people actually like what I do."

  "They more than like it. You're going to become a celebrity! Just wait and see you're a woman artist of the West!"

  "I'm so blessed to have you. You're the only one who really understands."

  "I love you, Glynna. I want you to be happy." Her words were heartfelt.

  "I am happy, Aunt Mimi. I'm in Texas!" She looked back out the window, her eyes aglow. "It doesn't get any more exciting than this!"

  "Oh, I don't know. I think it will be very exciting when Glynna Williams's paintings of the untamed Texas landscape and its people are all that anyone's talking about in New York society. I'll have so much to brag about."

  "That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? It would certainly show Papa that I'm serious about my work."

  "I think he found that out already the day we left. I don't think he really believed we'd make the trip."

  Glynna grinned at her aunt conspiratorially and then turned her attention back out the window again as the stage rumbled on. There was so much to see. She couldn't afford to waste a minute. She might miss something!

  Mimi gazed lovingly at Glynna. She had grown into an intelligent, beautiful young woman. She had a wonderful, promising future ahead of her, and Mimi wanted to make sure that she had every opportunity to take full advantage of it.

  She hadn't enjoyed defying her brother that way during the confrontation, but she was certain it would ultimately be worth it. He had to understand that his daughter's painting wasn't a "hobby," as he'd called it. Glynna was making quite a name for herself as a Western artist. The oil paintings inspired by her trip to Colorado had sold very well. There was a growing demand for more of her work, especially the ones she'd done of the Indians she'd seen on her trip. They had proven, to everyone's surprise, to be among the most popular.

  That was why Glynna had wanted to travel west again, and that was why Mimi had felt it necessary to stand up to Charles and force his hand. He'd backed down, but it hadn't been pleasant. Watching Glynna now as she studied the Texas landscape, Mimi knew it had been worth it. One day soon, she hoped Charles would realize just how talented Glynna really was.

  "Aunt Mimi, if you've never been to this part of the state before, how did you know it was going to be so beautiful?"

  "I've heard so many tales about how wonderful Texas is that I was certain any place we chose to go would be magnificent." Mimi turned her attention out her own window and gazed off into the distance. There had been more to her decision to choose this route than just chance, but she would explain that to Glynna later. Right now they were heading for the town of Dry Creek, and she couldn't have been more pleased.

  "We should make Dry Creek by dark," Al Rollins, the stage driver, told Hank Sanders, the man riding shotgun with him.

  "Good. I'm gonna enjoy having a drink or two at the saloon once we get there," Hank said with a tense smile as he kept a sharp eye out for trouble. This was the most dangerous part of the run into Dry Creek, and he had to stay alert. Renegades and outlaws were always a threat on this stretch of the road.

  "You and me both," Al agreed, and he slapped the team's reins on their backs, urging them to a faster pace. The thought of relaxing in the bar and having a beer was a real incentive to make it into town on time.

  Suddenly shots rang out, jarring the driver and his guard from their thoughts of the night to come. A bullet slammed into Hank's shoulder, and he collapsed on the driver's bench next to Al, bleeding severely.

  Al desperately fought to get all he could out of his horses. He cursed and swore at them as he whipped them harder and harder, hoping to outrun their attackers. Crouching low, he stayed in control of his nearly runaway team. But as more shots were fired and they closed in on him, he knew it was hopeless. He reined in and brought the stage to a halt. He almost made a grab for Hank's rifle, but stopped as four masked bandits galloped up before him with their guns aimed directly at his chest. He was trapped.

  "Don't do nothing stupid," the leader of the gang told him. "Just throw down your guns and the strongbox, and do it fast!"

  "Don't..." Hank moaned, lying half-unconscious next to Al.

  But Al knew they had no choice. If they wanted to stay alive, he would have to do what the bandits said and give them what they wanted. He pulled the strongbox free of the driver's boot and shoved it out
. It crashed heavily to the ground, and the outlaws hooted in excitement.

  "You won't get away with this!" Al said threateningly.

  The outlaws laughed as two of them hurried to dismount and loot the box, while the other two kept their guns trained on him. "We already have."

  "Driver! What's happening?"

  The sound of a woman's voice drew the outlaws' attention.

  "Well, well, what do we have here?" one of the gunmen drawled as he stepped away from the now empty strongbox to open the stagecoach door. "Get out of there. Now! All of you!"

  "Driver?"

  "Do what he says, ma'am. They ain't foolin' with us," Al ordered, hoping the outlaws would go easy on his two female passengers. Unarmed as he was, there wasn't much he could do to save them, but he would have to try. Nobody was going to harm any women under his protection while he still had breath in his body.

  Mimi was shocked as she stared out the stage doorway at the masked men who were obviously holding up the stage. In all her forty-eight years, she had never been in a life-threatening situation like this one before, and she wasn't quite sure of the protocol involved. The bandits' guns were pointed directly at her, so she assumed she should follow the driver's directions.

  "Could you help me down, please?" she asked.

  "Aunt Mimi! Just do what he says!" Glynna said nervously from behind her.

  "But it's a long way down, dear, and I'm afraid I'll "She was about to explain that she feared she'd fall without assistance, but she didn't get the chance to finish.

  "Get the hell down out of there, woman! Or I'll give you something to be afraid of!" the outlaw said with a snarl. He was in no mood to deal with any prim and proper lady from back east, and her precise accent and expensive clothes pegged her as that. He had no idea what a woman like her was doing in a place like this, but he figured she just might be worth some money.

  Mimi gave him her most genteel, offended look. "Really, sir, there's no reason to use profanity."

  "Oooeee, looks like you're dealin' with a real live lady, there, Will," another robber taunted.